


Not Okay, Cupid

by spencersmith



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Online Dating, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-03-25 23:09:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3828373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spencersmith/pseuds/spencersmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire and Enjolras go to the same school, except Grantaire has no idea Enjolras exists. When Enjolras finds out about Grantaire’s online dating profile, he sort of...catfishes him. Well, not exactly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Pining over Grantaire has kind of become routine at this point.

 

Enjolras has been in his history module for 5 months now (every Monday at 2pm and Thursdays and Fridays at 11.30am) and his pining levels have been off the charts. He always strategically sits diagonally behind Grantaire to get the best view of him, for pining reasons.

 

Talking to him is, evidently, out of the question.

 

Partly because Enjolras is far too neurotic for casual social interaction, and partly because Grantaire is reallyfuckingcool and will probably see Enjolras as some kind of babbling idiot.

 

Today’s a Friday, and Grantaire is (as usual) having a heated discussion with their professor about...something. Enjolras wishes he knew, but he finds it so hard to both listen _and_ pine. He’s assuming it’s something about the USSR, because Grantaire just loves disproving communism.

Okay, maybe that’s the one thing that they won’t agree on when they are inevitably married with children (one girl and one boy, Anna and Dmitri, they will be incredibly gifted - with Grantaire’s artistic talent but Enjolras’s _correct_ political ideologies - this will happen somehow) but Enjolras is willing to make some concessions.

 

Back in the real world, however, Grantaire has no idea Enjolras exists. To be fair there are about 150 people in each class, and Enjolras does his best to _not_ be seen by Grantaire because he can’t handle the thought of Grantaire having any sort of opinion about him...still, that doesn’t stop Enjolras waking up extra early every Monday, Thursday, and Friday to make sure he looks as hot as possible.

 

(Which still isn’t hot enough to talk to Grantaire. That’s #1 on his list-of-things-to-do-before-he-can-talk-to-Grantaire - get hot.)

 

Professor Lamarque eventually (as usual) resorts to shushing Grantaire, because class ends in ten minutes and they still haven’t finished the powerpoint on the Show Trials.

Enjolras watches Grantaire slump back in his chair with a huff, scratching his chest absently. (That’s what he does when he wants a cigarette. Is that a weird thing to know?) He spends the rest of the class taking down notes and Enjolras spends the rest of the class drawing tiny biro hearts in the margins of his notepad. He tried taking up smoking as an incentive to sit with Grantaire after class, but he can’t really pull it off. It’s not that it makes him cough or whatever, it just doesn’t suit him. So he’s been told.

 

When class ends, Grantaire is the first out the door. He always is. It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy history, but he likes to take a 25 minute cigarette break before his pottery class. It’s a good thing too, because it means he never has time to notice Enjolras, who slips out the other door anyway, just in case.

 

Enjolras is fully aware that he’s creepy as fuck.

 

He doesn’t _want_ to do so much pining all the time, but Grantaire is just so...amazing. Every Sunday night Enjolras makes the resolve to Get Over Him, and every Monday he’s right back where he started, staring at Grantaire’s tattooed arms.

 

Courfeyrac is constantly telling him that it wouldn’t be creepy if he was actually his _boyfriend_ and that Enjolras should talk to him, but there’s no way that’s happening.

 

That’s what Courfeyrac says again now, groaning when he sees Enjolras frowning as he meets him after class.

 

“Learn anything new? What was the focus of the first Five Year Plan? Why didn’t collective farming work?” Courfeyrac quizzes him, taking some of Enjolras’s books and walking beside him. “What tattoo is on Grantaire’s left wrist?”

 

“A stag beetle.” Enjolras sighs. He knows Courfeyrac is fucking with him, but he doesn’t really care. The least he can do is own up to his creepiness.

 

“Ask him out.” Courfeyrac says firmly, for the billionth time.

 

“No.” Enjolras replies. For the billionth time.

  
  
  
  


That night, Enjolras heads to the library to study for his test on Wednesday, because whether or not he’s in love with some dude from a module, he still has his regular classes to pass and his degree to get. He’s going to become a human rights lawyer, even if he’s...distracted.

 

And tired as fuck. The library is dark, as it usually is past 10pm, so the light from his laptop seems glaring, and it’s making him feel drowsy. He clicks out of his revision notes and checks his email, tapping absently at his mousepad while it loads.

 

The last guy in the library finally gets up to leave, and Enjolras breathes out a sigh of relief when the door swings shut. There’s nothing he loves more than having the library to himself at night.

 

He has no emails, so he gets up to stretch his legs and grab a coffee from the dispenser. When he sits back down he swivels in his chair for a while, still unable to focus.

 

To be honest, all he can think about is how good Grantaire’s tattoos would look against his sheets, but that’s...whatever.

 

Grantaire, Grantaire, Grantaire.

 

Maybe he has a facebook. Enjolras should look for his facebook, that would help him focus. Y’know, get it out of his system.

 

He already found his YouTube channel a couple of weeks ago, and oh was that an experience. Courfeyrac and Feuilly had to put up with him watching Grantaire’s cover of ‘Apologize’ 20 times a day, and it was even worse when he found ‘I Will Follow You’.

 

But Facebook shouldn’t be too bad, just some photos.

 

He doesn’t find anything when he types in his name, so Enjolras tries Googling Grantaire’s school address, instead. And the second result is...for OkCupid.

 

Enjolras clicks on it immediately, and sure enough, Grantaire’s pretty face pops up, with the username ‘R’. Just R. Fuck, that’s so clever, grand r. How did he even get a username that short.

 

Enjolras scrolls down eagerly. Last online, yesterday. Aries, and it’s fun to think about. Likes dogs, dislikes cats.

 

_Orientation: queer._

 

Oh, my god. That is the hottest thing Enjolras has ever read. Grantaire isn’t straight. Enjolras puts his coffee cup down on the table and stares at those words for a long time, smiling to himself. His heart is racing.

 

He eventually realises that there’s the rest of the profile to look at, but Grantaire has filled out every section with only one line. What I’m doing with my life - “freaking out about it”. Favourite books, movies, music - “Rimbaud, Rachmaninoff, and Rihanna”. You should message me if - “you like talking about art but you’re not a pretentious dickhead like me.”

 

Enjolras scrolls back up to stare at his profile pic. He’s wearing his cute red beanie, and he is painfully adorable. Enjolras groans and rests his head on the table for a while.

 

“He’s got a dating profile.” he mutters to himself. “that means he’s dating people.”

 

He can’t even imagine how many messages Grantaire must get every day. He’s so pretty.

 

Enjolras finally sits back up, rubbing his eyes and taking another gulp of his coffee, which is getting cold at this point. He tries to click on Grantaire’s answered questions, but OkCupid tells him he needs to be a member.

 

Enjolras stares at the screen. “Shit,” he whispers.

 

That’s when somebody bursts into the library, scaring the shit out of Enjolras. He immediately changes tab and downs his coffee, trying to look busy. It’s just some kid from his dorm block, but he doesn’t want anyone knowing how much of a creep he is. He closes his laptop and heads back to his room.

  
  
  


The next day, all Enjolras can think about is Grantaire’s OkCupid profile. He really wants to see those questions. What’s his favourite colour? What sort of guys does he like? What sort of sex is he into? Oh God, the answers are _right there_ , but Enjolras can’t access them.

 

To make matters worse, he has no plans that Saturday so he can literally spend the whole day moping at his desk.

 

He tries not to touch his computer for a while because he knows he’ll do something stupid, but studying from his books is hard and his laptop is sitting there taunting him. He reaches for his phone and rings Courfeyrac.

 

Courfeyrac picks up on the third ring. “What do you want, Enjolras?” he asks groggily. “It’s the middle of the night.”

“It’s literally 10am, Courf.” Enjolras remarks, sitting on his bed and leaning against the wall.

 

“Exactly.” Courfeyrac complains. “This better be good.”

 

“I need your help.” Enjolras says, trying not to put on his pining voice (as Courfeyrac calls it) but he can tell. He can always tell.

 

“This is about Grantaire, isn’t it? I already told you just talk to hi-”

 

“He’s on OkCupid.”

 

“Uh. Okay. So?”

 

“He’s got, like, a profile and everything.”

 

“What’s your point here, Enjolras?”

 

“I think I’m gonna make one too.”

 

He can hear Courfeyrac laughing to himself. “So you can’t talk to boys in real life but you’re fine with sharing everything about yourself online? Feel free, man.”

 

“I just wanna see what our match is.”

 

“Sure.” Courfeyrac says skeptically. “Look, can I go back to sleep now? I love you and everything but I’m hungover as fuck.”

 

Enjolras says goodbye to Courfeyrac and hangs up the phone, throwing it onto his pillow. He stares at his laptop for a second...what could go wrong? He doesn’t have to talk to Grantaire or anything. He just wants to look at his profile.

 

He decisively moves over to his desk and powers up his laptop, which immediately pulls up Grantaire’s profile, since he didn’t turn it off properly last night.

 

Fuck, look at that face.

 

The “Sign Up now to access more info” window is still open too, so he makes himself an account before he can change his mind. He tries various different usernames, but in the end the only one that’s available is ‘olra’, which sounds like a Russian name from the 1900s, but fuck it. He fills in the basic info they ask for - male, gay, 24, aquarius - then immediately clicks back to Grantaire’s profile.

 

But of course, you can’t see his answers until you’ve answered the same questions too.

 

Well, Enjolras knows how he’s going to be spending his Saturday.

  
  
  


He stumbles through a bunch of questions like “Are you a cat person or a dog person?” (both dog) and “Is smoking disgusting?” (Grantaire said yes, Enjolras said no), but then they start getting serious. When Enjolras reads the words “About how long do you want your next relationship to last?” He feels...nervous. He ticked “a few months to a year”, but Grantaire ticked “a night”.

 

Enjolras is both heartbroken and turned on.

 

“What are you more interested in right now, love or sex?” Grantaire ticked “sex”. “Would you sleep with someone on the first date?” an enthusiastic tick “yes”.

 

Enjolras swivels his chair away so he can breathe for a second. This info is doing two things - a) ruining Enjolras’s life plan for them together and b) making Enjolras picture Grantaire naked. Having sex. A lot of sex.

 

He spends an inordinate amount of time thinking about Grantaire naked, this isn’t anything new. But something about those answers coming from Grantaire himself is getting Enjolras seriously flustered.

 

He swivels back around to his computer and looks at his own profile. At this point, they’re a 97% match. Enjolras hasn’t uploaded a profile pic, though.

 

That’s when a little notification pops up at the bottom of his screen, informing him that someone called MadAdam9 has viewed his profile, and Enjolras blinks.

He didn’t know that happened.

 

And that means that Grantaire knows he was checking out his profile for the past...two hours.

 

Oh fuck.

 

He immediately clicks out of all the OkCupid tabs that are open and closes his computer, his heart pounding.

 

“It’s fine. It’s fine!” he tells the empty room, gnawing at his thumbnail. His name is ‘olra’ and he doesn’t have a photo, there’s no way to trace anything back to him. Everything is totally fine.

  
He should seriously be more careful, though.


	2. Chapter 2

Enjolras does not want to show up for class on Monday.

Every Monday for the past five months has made his stomach flip, but this Monday is worse, because he just knows that once he sees Grantaire all he’ll be able to think about is his profile, and his _questions_ , and about all the sex Grantaire is probably (definitely) having. With people who aren’t Enjolras.

He hates those people.

He spends his Monday morning classes dreading History. For some reason he feels like Grantaire will know it was him. Maybe he knows everything Enjolras did and he finds it creepy as fuck.

Which it is, really. But the longer Grantaire knows nothing about him, the better.

In History, they’re doubling back over the 1917 revolutions and the Romanovs, which is Enjolras’s favourite topic, so he doesn’t have to pay too much attention. Grantaire arrives five minutes late with Starbucks (which they’re all used to at this point). He always brings a spare for Professor Lamarque, who nods him to his seat with a fond huff.

Grantaire doesn’t look at Enjolras. He’s not sure what he was expecting – that his username would be written on his forehead in big letters? No, Grantaire just slips into his seat without looking around, takes out his notepad and his laptop.

Enjolras breathes out a sigh of relief, slumping back in his chair and flipping back to the page of his notepad where he’s been doodling hearts for the past two weeks.

Grantaire doesn’t have much to argue about this class, since there’s no Communism involved yet and they covered a bit of this last semester. He does, however, insist that Rasputin was a rapist and Prince Yusupov was genderfluid, but nobody really takes him up on his debate.

Enjolras would love to talk to him about that, but y’know. He’s him.

Then again, maybe he can talk to him. Not face to face, but…

He doesn’t want to get too cocky, but getting away with Saturday’s incident unscathed was kind of…exhilarating. For some reason Enjolras feels powerful, like he can find out whatever he wants about Grantaire without giving himself away.

No, that’s a dumb idea. Enjolras would definitely fuck that up somehow. He tries to push online dating and Grantaire out of his mind for a while, focusing on Professor Lamarque instead. It doesn’t exactly work, but at least he’s trying.

 

He goes out for coffee with Courfeyrac after class, and successfully does not bring up Grantaire at all. Courfeyrac doesn’t mention him either, just spends the whole time talking about the “ridiculously cute” barista and “oh my god did you see how he just poured that macchiato?”. Enjolras is starting to think he’s not the only one with issues.

 

When he gets back to his dorm it’s about 6.30pm, so he sits on his bed browsing the web for a while, intentionally ignoring his homework. He works hard over the weekend, so he likes to give himself Mondays off. He checks his email, answering a few from his family and one from his tutor, and then he notices the one from OkCupid.

 

_20 people have visited your profile! Log on now to see who likes you._

20 people isn’t bad considering he doesn’t have a profile picture, so Enjolras is kind of pleased with himself and momentarily forgets that he only made the profile because he’s completely infatuated with Grantaire. He clicks onto his profile and _damn_ , five messages! He smiles to himself and clicks on the little speech bubble notification.

 

Three of his messages are from dudes who also don’t have profile pictures, and they just say “Hi.” or “how are u?”, so Enjolras isn’t immediately drawn in. He sends a “hi” back. One other message is from MadAdam9, and it’s a paragraph-long explanation about why Communism would never work and how the world is supposed to prosper under Capitalism so Enjolras immediately clicks out of _that_.

 

His last message is from a dude named R and he clicks on it absently. It takes him a second to realise that wait _shit this is the guy I’ve had a crush on since forever._ And he _messaged me!!_

 

 _“no pic huh?”_ is the first message. Then _“you must be the brooding, mysterious type. i like it.”_

Enjolras nearly has a heart attack. What the fuck is he supposed to say to that? He swivels around in his chair in a miniature freak-out, then centres himself.

 

Grantaire is _hitting on him_ and he has no idea who he is! Does that mean he was lured in by his profile? Maybe he just wanted to argue about politics like MadAdam9. Or maybe he messaged Enjolras because he saw that Enjolras had been creeping on his profile for hours. Either way he messaged him and Enjolras has no idea what to say. He really wants to ring Courfeyrac, but he has a music class until 8pm, and he’s probably sick of hearing about ‘Grantaire woes’ anyway. Enjolras picks at his fingernails, then finally just goes for it, replying,

 

_“i’m sorry i can’t answer this question i’m too mysterious and brooding”_

He immediately regrets it. That’s the dumbest thing he’s ever said. Oh, jeez. There’s no way to take that back, and a little notification comes up pretty quickly, telling him he got a reply. So that means Grantaire is online. Oh my god.

 

 _“haha”_ is all it says. Then later, _“i’m grantaire.”_

“I know.” Enjolras sighs to himself. He imagines Grantaire in his dorm room (about 500 metres away from where Enjolras is) sitting at his computer. He probably looks so cute right now.

 

Enjolras scratches the back of his neck and replies _“hi grantaire, i’m enjolras”,_ before realising that _holy shit_ he should not have told Grantaire what his real name is. How could he be such a fucking idiot?? He starts typing something to try retracting what he just said but Grantaire has already replied –

 

_“hey enjolras.”_

Enjolras lets out a long breath through his teeth.

 

He has to admit, it feels great to have Grantaire say his name. Even if it’s just online.

 

Before he gets a chance to answer, another message from R pops up.

 

_“that’s a nice name. i bet you’re cute”_

Enjolras blushes. He blushes alone, to himself, in his room, because of an internet message. God, he’s such a loser. But at least Grantaire didn’t say anything about his name. Plus, Enjolras is pretty sure he’s flirting with him. This is the best day of his life. And the worst. Oh, God.

 

 _“well not half as cute as you”_ he replies, before he can stop himself. “I have nothing to lose.” He whispers aloud to himself. “Right?”

 

His dorm room doesn’t answer, but Grantaire does. “ _haha wow don’t make me blush enj”_

 

Enjolras smiles to himself.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, but I was in the West of Ireland with no internet connection! I got a lot of writing done though, so you can expect the next few chapters in quick succession :)


	3. Chapter 3

 

Enjolras sits down opposite Courfeyrac, planting both fists on the table and waiting for him to look up from his book.

 

Well, look up from ‘pretending to read but mainly using his book as an excuse to stare in the direction of the till for a long time’. He insisted they come to this café for breakfast, and even got up half an hour before Enjolras to get a good seat. (Enjolras has officially decided that Courfeyrac can no longer lecture him about talking to Grantaire when he doesn’t even know that barista’s name; but that’s a whole other story and Enjolras has pressing news to tell Courfeyrac.)

 

It takes Courfeyrac at least 60 seconds, but he eventually looks up at Enjolras with a dumbfounded smile. “Morning, Enj,”

 

Enjolras wants to roll his eyes at Courfeyrac’s behaviour, but he doesn’t have it in him. He’s far too excited. “I spoke to him.” He tells Courfeyrac.

 

It takes Courf a second to register what he just said (and to drag his eyes away from the barista again) but he eventually raises an eyebrow at Enjolras. “Are we talking about…?”

 

Enjolras nods excitedly and Courfeyrac’s eyes widen. “When? How? Did you ask him out?”

 

“Well…it’s complicated.” He sighs, resting his head on his hand. “But we talked for five hours last night and, oh my God, Courf he’s so wonderful.”

 

Courfeyrac looks unimpressed. “What do you mean it’s ‘complicated’?” he asks.

 

“Well, he doesn’t exactly know that it’s… _me_.”

 

“What the fuck does that mean?”

 

“I told you, it’s complicated.” Enjolras shakes his head. “Remember that dating profile I told you about…”

 

“Oh my God, Enj, are you _catfishing_ Grantaire?” Courfeyrac laughs loudly, and Enjolras shushes him, looking around the café to make sure no one overheard.

 

“No! No.” he replies. “I’m not, I’m just. Well.” He groans and rests his face in his hands. “Shit.” He says into his palms, his voice muffled.

 

“Who are you pretending to be?” Courfeyrac asks. He sounds way too amused. Enjolras hates him.

 

“I’m not pretending to be _anyone_ ,” he argues, lifting his head up. “He knows my name, he just doesn’t know what I look like. Or that I go to school here. Or that I’ve been staring at him in History for the past five months.”

 

“Oh,” Courfeyrac says, still smiling. “Does that still count as catfishing? I’m not too sure about the _exact_ criteria, but…”

 

Enjolras groans again, giving Courfeyrac an exasperated look. Courfeyrac pats him on the shoulder. “Cheer up, Enj. At least you finally spoke to him.” He takes a sip of his coffee. “What did you guys talk about?”

 

Enjolras smiles. Even though what he’s doing isn’t exactly the orthodox way of starting a relationship, he still had the best time of his life last night. He didn’t realise how long they had been talking until Grantaire pointed it out. They talked about everything and nothing. He found out that Grantaire has a dog that he has to look after between classes (which is probably why he always leaves early); that he wants to become a primary school teacher, and he does caricatures on the side of the road for money on the weekends.

 

If Enjolras wasn’t infatuated before, he definitely is now.

 

Most of what he told Grantaire about himself was true. They talked about Enjolras’s family and about him studying law. Grantaire didn’t even ask him where he went to school (though Enjolras kind of steered the conversation away from there).

 

Just before going to bed, Grantaire insisted that they talk again tomorrow, so they have kind of an…’internet date’ scheduled. Enjolras is supposed to be online at 6pm again. And honestly, he’s never been more excited for anything in his life.

 

Unfortunately, before he gets a chance to tell Courfeyrac all about it, the barista comes over to their table. He slides a piece of paper over to Courfeyrac, avoiding any eye contact, then heads back to the till. Courfeyrac goes red, but he picks up the paper and grins, giving Enjolras a sheepish look. “How about you tell me about this at lunch, yeah? I uh…” he checks the time on his phone. “Something came up.”

 

Enjolras rolls his eyes. Courfeyrac gets laid before even knowing the guy’s name, but Enjolras always has to take the creepy route. There is no justice.

 

Coufeyrac looks so pleased though, it’s hard to be mad at him. “Okay, whatever, I’ll see you after class.” Enjolras sighs.

 

 

 

He tries to pay attention in class, he really does. He knows that his professor is dropping a ton of hints about their test tomorrow, because Bahorel keeps writing things down, but every time he tries to focus his mind just wanders back to Grantaire and their date tonight. Well, it’s not really a date. Enjolras doesn’t know what it is. All that matters is that Grantaire will be there.

 

He has an hour to wait before Courfeyrac finishes his lesson, so he hangs out with Bahorel in the courtyard, taking down the notes he missed. It’s warm and there aren’t that many students around, so they sit on the grass. He kind of wants to tell Bahorel about his date, but they were never really close. Plus, Bahorel is as heterosexual as they come, and Enjolras always feels that he makes him uncomfortable when he talks about boys.

 

When Courfeyrac eventually joins them, he’s grinning ear to ear. Enjolras pats the grass beside him and Courfeyrac flops down, resting his head on Enjolras’s shoulder.

 

“Oh my God, Enj. I think I’m in love.”

 

Enjolras laughs. “What’s his name?”

 

“Jean. Jehan. Something like that.”

 

“Jehan Prouvaire from the Musain?” Bahorel pipes up.

 

Courfeyrac grins at Bahorel and nods. “He sucked me off in the bathroom. I’ve never felt this way before.”

 

Bahorel makes a face and Enjolras snorts, bringing one hand up to play with Courfeyrac’s hair. “Okay, I totally forgive you for ditching me.”

 

“Right? I wouldn’t have done it if it wasn’t an emergency.”

 

“So are you guys going out now?”

 

Courfeyrac sits up, scratching his head. “I don’t know. We’re going on a date tonight. I think I’m gonna bring him to the cinema or something.”

 

Enjolras nods. “That would be nice.”

 

“We could double-date,” Courfeyrac teases.

 

Bahorel raises an eyebrow. “Enjolras has a boyfriend?”

 

“No!” Enjolras elbows Courfeyrac hard in the ribs. “Courfeyrac is just full of shit.”

 

“Enj is _internet dating_.” Courfeyrac waggles his eyebrows at Bahorel. Enjolras shoots him a death glare.

 

“I thought you had a thing for Grantaire.” Bahorel says pensively. Enjolras immediately turns around to look at him.

 

“What made you think that?” he asks, his voice breaking embarrassingly.

 

Bahorel laughs. “I don’t know, you’re always kinda...looking at him. I guess. Maybe I’m wrong.”

  
Bahorel starts rolling a cigarette and Enjolras doesn’t say anything, just stares at the grass next to him. Courfeyrac starts rubbing his shoulders. “So tell me all about last night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay, but I'm graduating this year so everything's a bit mad  
> (You can always hit me up at fascizm.tumblr.com if you've got any advice/requests/anything to say!)


	4. Chapter 4

Enjolras logs on at 6.10pm. He had been sitting at the computer since 4.00, but he didn’t want to log on early and seem desperate. When he does log on, he already has a message from Grantaire - sent at 5.45! - which makes his stomach flip. (Who’s he kidding? He is desperate.)

 

 **R:** howdy

 

 **olra:** hi :)

 

 **R:** i was beginning to think you were gonna stand me up haha

 

 **olra:** it’s been ten minutes

 

 **R:** worst 10 minutes of my life

 

 **olra:** lmao sorry R

 

 **R:** how was your day??

 

 **olra:** it was good, just school y’know

 

 **R:** the law and shit

 

 **R:** fuckin’ ace

 

 **olra:** how was yours?

 

 **R:** i can’t complain. i was just excited to talk to you ;)

 

 **olra:** are you flirting with me?

 

 **R:** is it working?

 

It was definitely working. But it’s not like Grantaire has to make any effort to woo Enjolras, because he’s already there.

 

 **olra:** maybe

 

 **olra:** why do you even talk to me? you have no idea what i look like haha

 

 **R:** i think you’re cool

 

 **R:** and funny

 

 **R:** and i bet you’re reaally pretty so i’m not taking any chances

 

 **olra:** jeez

 

 **olra:** that’s a lot of responsibility

 

 **olra:** you might be disappointed

 

 **R:** nah i doubt it

 

 **R:** and when exactly might i get the opportunity to be disappointed? :::)))))

 

 **olra:** haha

 

 **olra:** we’ll see

 

 **R:** :(

 

 **R:** that better not be code for ‘never’

 

 **olra:** it’s code for ‘we’ll see’

 

 **olra:** are you always this eager? lol

 

 **R:** only with pretty, smart, left-wing lawyer boys

 

 **R:** i cant wait to convert you to fascism

 

 **R:** it’s all part of my plan

 

Grantaire either types really fast or Enjolras’s brain is a little mushy, but he’s having a hard time keeping up with the conversation. He runs his fingers through his hair and takes a deep breath. He can’t believe that Grantaire is talking to him. He can’t believe that Grantaire is flirting with him. He feels like he’s in some strange dream, or that feeling he gets after 2 vodkas when he feels like his actions have no consequences (and yes, maybe he’s a bit of a lightweight). He has to force himself to focus on not acting like an idiot and remind himself that Grantaire is just a few blocks away. Which makes him feel weirder, still. But whatever.

 

 **olra:** haha, good luck with that

 

Honestly, he can’t really believe he got himself into this situation. He really wants to go out with Grantaire, but if they do actually meet up, Grantaire will for sure know who he is. And if he doesn’t, he’d definitely recognise him at their next history class. And then he’d be all “what the fuck” and Enjolras would be all “oops” and it just wouldn’t work out. Enjolras’s creepiness would be unveiled for the world to see.

 

 **R:** what are you doing?

 

 **olra:** talking to you. listening to music. writing an essay.

 

 **olra:** well, i’m trying to write an essay but i’m mostly just talking to you

 

 **R:** same!

 

 **R:** i have a really hard history essay to write and i suck at history and you’re far more interesting, soo

 

 **olra:** you don’t suck at history

 

 **R:** i so do, enj, oh my god

 

 **R:** my professor is always like “you have to write objectively!” and i’m like????

 

 **R:** how am i supposed to be objective about a tsar who wrecked his country, killed a whole load of jewish russians, didnt care about his people and was overall a dumbass?

 

 **R:** can i write ‘dumbass’ in a history essay d’you think?

 

 **olra:** if you’re talking about nicholas ii then no way, he was a sweetheart

 

 **R:** he was an idiot!

 

 **olra:** he just wanted to farm! and hang out with his family! he wasn’t ready to lead a country, it’s not his fault

 

 **R:** haha oh my god

 

 **R:** you’re so cute

 

 **R:** you’re wrong, but you’re cute

 

Enjolras blushes at that. After all, the cutest person in existence just called him cute. He should probably feel patronised, but he doesn’t really mind.

 

 **olra:** not as cute as you

 

 **R:** are you flirting with me?? enjolras!

 

 **olra:** hahaha

 

 **olra:** is it working?

 

 **R:** oh yes.

 

Enjolras shivers. It’s probably just cold in here...yeah. He isn’t really sure what to reply, but after a minute passes, Grantaire is typing again.

 

 **R:** have you ever met up with anyone from okc before?

 

 **olra:** no

 

 **olra:** i mean, i only registered like 4 days ago so i haven’t really had a chance haha

 

 **R:** oh damn

 

 **R:** i swooped in early

 

 **olra:** have you?

 

 **R:** ever met anyone?

 

 **olra:** yeah

 

 **R:** i met up with this girl once but we didn’t really hit it off

 

 **olra:** huh

 

 **R:** haha what, are you jealous?

 

 _Yes._ Enjolras was jealous of any person who got to date Grantaire. Or even touch Grantaire. And even though it isn’t a big deal at all, he just knows that he’s gonna spend at least 2 days wondering whether him and that girl slept together, and whether he talked to her the same way, and worrying that he wouldn’t “hit it off” with Enjolras, either.

 

 **olra:** no

 

 **olra:** so you like girls?

 

 **olra:** you knoww that i’m not a girl, right? lmao

 

 **R:** what?!?!

 

 **R:** of course i know, dork

 

 **R:** idk what i like

 

 **R:** i’m just into hot people  & i’m not gonna restrict myself i guess

 

 **R:** is that a problem?

 

 **olra:** no, i guess not

 

 **R:** good

 

 **R:** cause i’m liking you more and more, apollo

 

 **R:** are you only into boys?

 

 **olra:** yeah, pretty much

 

 **olra:** i used to think i wasn’t really into anything, but i always thought guys were just...nice

 

 **olra:** and when my best friend came out i was like “hold up, i can date boys???”

 

 **olra:** like it had never occurred to me, y’know? haha

 

 **R:** that’s cute

 

 **R:** did you and your best friend…?

 

 **olra:** oh god, no

 

 **olra:** well, we tried, but it was gross

 

 **R:** haha

 

 **olra:** why, are you jealous?

 

 **R:** a little

 

 **R:** but i’d hope you’d never describe us as ‘gross’

 

 **olra:** no, i’m sure you’d rock my world

 

 **olra:** oh daddy

 

 **olra:** harder

 

Enjolras isn’t sure if deadpanning works online, but whatever. They’ve been talking for over an hour, even though it doesn’t feel like it. He can’t believe how relaxed he feels around Grantaire.

 

 **R:** haha wow okay

 

 **R:** i know you’re fucking with me, but that was kinda hot

 

 **olra:** you’re terrible

 

 **R:** it’s not my fault!

 

 **R:** you should give me your phone number

 

 **R:** if that’s cool

 

 **olra:** yeah, that is cool

 

 **olra:** 0677917181

 

 **R:** i’m gonna text the shit out of you

 

 **olra:** i can’t wait

 

 **R:** i should probably go finish this essay and get some sleep

 

 **R:** 5 hour art exam tomorrow

 

 **R:** but i’ll text you, okay?

 

 **R:** you’re not getting rid of me that easily, apollo

 

 **olra:** what’s with this ‘apollo’ thing?

 

 **R:** it just suits you

 

 **R:** i’ll talk to you tomorrow, yeah?

 

 **olra:** okay

 

 **olra:** goodnight, grantaire

  
**R:** goodnight  <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally!!


	5. Chapter 5

When Enjolras walks into History the next day, Grantaire is already sitting in his seat. Enjolras feels like he should go over and say hi, continue talking to him or something, but he doesn’t. He slides into his own seat and sets his phone on the table.

 

When Enjolras woke up that morning, he already had a text from Grantaire. Several, actually. Grantaire had sent them at 3.00am.

 

_R: i just finished my essya!_

_R: essay*_

_R: i hope ur sleeping soundly apollo_

_R: this is grantaire btw_

_R: from the internet_

_R: the realyl hot guy_

_R: that u want to bang_

_R: sorry i’m rly tired i’ll stop_

 

Enjolras hadn’t answered yet. He didn’t really get the time to, since he had woken up at ten and had to rush to class. That, and he had to think of a good response. Which was impossible.

 

He picks his phone back up and fiddles with it for a while, looking at Grantaire. He eventually just texts “hey :)” and sends it before he can change his mind. Ahead of him, Grantaire’s phone buzzes. Enjolras watches him pull it out of his pocket. This is such a fucked up situation. Enjolras feels like some sort of puppet master right now.

 

Except when Grantaire reads the text, he smiles to himself, and Enjolras’s heart melts. It’s really hard to feel bad when he gets to see that smile, because wow. Grantaire smiled because of him. Real Grantaire in real time.

 

He watches Grantaire type something back, smiling to himself as his thumbs move over the keyboard. Of course, in Enjolras’s distracted state, he may have...forgotten to put his phone on silent.

 

Which means that when Grantaire hits send, Enjolras’s phone beeps. Loudly.

 

He scrambles for the vibrate switch as quickly as he can, his heart racing. He knows his cheeks are turning bright red, and he deliberately doesn’t look in Grantaire’s direction. He unlocks his phone and pretends to type something (he ends up just sending “ _ughghghughhghhhhhhh_ ” to Courfeyrac) and hopes to God that Grantaire didn’t notice.

 

When he finally looks back up, it appears Grantaire hadn’t moved at all. In fairness, phones go off all the time in class. Hopefully he didn’t hear.

 

Enjolras decides not to answer immediately anyway. Professor Lamarque has put some notes up on their next essay, so he takes those down before reaching for his phone again.

 

_R: hey!! hows ur day going?_

_R: sorry for those weird messages last night_

 

He also has one from Courfeyrac that just says ” _lmao_ ”, which he ignores. He sneaks a look at Grantaire to make sure he isn’t looking (he’s engrossed in whatever Professor Lamarque is saying, thankfully) before typing out;

 

_E: no don’t worry! i’m just happy to get a text from you at all_

_E: plus it was kind of an accurate description_

_E: haha_

 

He smiles at his desk when he hears Grantaire’s phone buzz.

 

 _R: i knew it!_   
  
Enjolras knows that it’s pretty disrespectful to be texting in class - especially on Grantaire’s part, who’s sitting right at the front. He’s never actually seen Grantaire use his phone in class before, which makes this whole thing doubly special.

 

They exchange messages during the whole lecture. Grantaire always makes faces when he types, and Enjolras is pretty sure it’s the most adorable thing he’s ever seen. He’s pretty sure they’re both falling behind on History.

 

Well, whatever. That’s the good thing about History. It’s not like it’s going anywhere.

 

*

 

Courfeyrac, of course, is dead set on shitting all over Enjolras’s happiness.

 

“I’m not saying you’ll _never_ be together, I’m just saying like,” he’s arguing through a mouthful of pizza, “how the fuck is this gonna work out?”

 

Enjolras just groans and rests his head on the arm of the couch. They’re at Jehan’s house, which is off campus, because he invited Courfeyrac (“and his blond friend”) to some party. His house is actually really nice, full of decorative pillows and throws, which Enjolras can appreciate. Courfeyrac, however, clearly doesn’t, since he’s thrown most of them onto the ground to make room for himself.

 

At this point the party has died down considerably, and Jehan stumbles over, curling up under Courfeyrac’s arm and grabbing a slice of leftover pizza. “What are we talking about?” he grins. He’s drunk. And he’s resting his hand dangerously high on Courfeyrac’s thigh.

 

“Enjolras’s hopeless love life,” Courfeyrac sighs, pressing a kiss to Jehan’s forehead. Enjolras is already bitter at how close they are. They look so comfortable with each other, like they’ve been together for years.

 

“It’s not _hopeless_ ” Enjolras whines. He’s pretty drunk, too. Well, as drunk as you can get off two cocktails. “It’s just...tricky.”

 

Jehan laughs comfortably, like he’s in on the joke. Enjolras can’t help but like him. He treats everyone like a friend, like they have something really interesting to say. Most of all, he looks at Courfeyrac like he’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen, which is what Courf deserves. His last boyfriend told him he was ‘ _just experimenting_ ’ (fucking Marius).

 

Right now, though, that look is less welcome, because Jehan’s hand is definitely too high up and Enjolras does not want to be a third wheel at whatever this is. He sighs obnoxiously loudly, which neither of them notice, and pushes himself up off the couch.

 

It takes a second for the room to stop spinning, but Enjolras eventually finds his balance. “I’m gonna go home,” he tells Courfeyrac, patting him on the head.

 

Courfeyrac grins, then looks concerned. “You can’t drive,” he frowns.

 

“I’ll take a vélib’ or something.”

 

“Sleep tight, Enj.” Jehan smiles up at him.

 

“Call me when you get home,” Courfeyrac adds.

  
  


Luckily Jehan lives pretty close to campus, and on the bike it takes barely 20 minutes. The harder part is actually getting his key in the door of his dorm room, but he eventually manages.

 

He flops down onto his bed and kicks off his shoes, reaching under himself to dig his phone out of his pocket.

 

 _"goodnight Grantaire ::))))) i realy like you"_ he types out.

 

His phone lights up a few seconds before he falls asleep.

  
_R: i really like you too, enjolras_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if these chapters are too short you guys, I just don't want to leave yee hanging! no worries, big plans for the future.


	6. Chapter 6

Enjolras wakes up the next morning feeling like shit. He’s not exactly hungover, because he never drinks enough to get hungover, but he’s really tired and stiff. And he can’t remember if he left the Vélib’ on the dock and he doesn’t want to pay for 12 hours of that stupid bike.

 

He fumbles around on his nightstand for his phone, and ends up finding it on the bed next to him. It’s 11:57. Great. Enjolras hates waking up in the double digits. In fact, anything after 9.30 makes him feel like he’s wasted the day.

 

He does, however, have a bunch of messages from Grantaire, so maybe this day won’t be as bad as it seems.

  


He ends up lying in bed for another 2 hours, texting. Grantaire is ridiculously flirtatious, and ridiculously cute, even through text. Enjolras is this close to making out with his phone.

 

He really wants to meet him.

 

Well, not meet him, because he’s technically already met him. But he wants to see him. Meet up with him. There’s only so long he can keep up this dumb charade. He’s eventually going to have to tell Grantaire “hey, I’m actually me, I hope that’s cool” and pray that Grantaire doesn’t think he’s fucked up. Maybe he’ll think it’s endearing or something. God.

 

Before he realises exactly what he’s doing, he types out,

 

_E: i really want to meet you_

_E: if that’s cool_

 

And of course it’s cool because Grantaire has been hinting at meeting up for days, but whatever.

 

_R: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_

_R: !!!!!!! yes!!!!!!!!!!_

_R: today??_

_R: i;m free let’s meet today!!_

 

Enjolras can’t stop smiling at his phone. He probably looks like an imbecile.

 

Well, shit. He _is_ an imbecile. Because he knows deep down that there is no way to salvage this situation. But for some reason, he doesn’t really care. He just wants to see Grantaire’s stupid face.

 

_E: yeah okay :)_

  


They arrange to meet at the Musain. Enjolras is the one who suggests it, because he kind of wants to be on familiar soil. Plus, Jehan works there, so he has a safety net. Kinda. He’s not sure if him and Jehan are friends yet, but he hopes they are.

 

It’s about 3 o’clock, and they’re supposed to meet at 4. Enjolras can feel himself beginning to freak out. His dumb plaid shirt is making his skin itchy and Grantaire is gonna think he’s an idiot. He texts Courfeyrac with a lot manic messages in sequence, and all Courfeyrac has to say is “damn” or “lol”. Courfeyrac is never fucking helpful.

 

Enjolras does manage to get Courfeyrac to go to the café at the same time as him, though. He’s mainly agreeing because Jehan will be there, and Courf loves seeing him in his barista outfit. Enjolras is just glad he’ll be there to bail him out if necessary.

 

3.30. Enjolras feels sick.

 

3.35.

 

He isn’t even doing anything productive, just staring at his phone and making himself more and more anxious. Why did he suggest this, again?

 

3.40. He should really leave for the café now.

But he can’t really make himself stand up.

His mind keeps playing out the situation in his head. Grantaire looking at him blankly. “You’re Enjolras?” “Don’t I know you?”.

 

He considers acting surprised as well. In a kind of “haha look at that, you’re you! I had no idea!” way. But two things are stopping him from doing that - 1. Grantaire had photos up, so it would be hard to play dumb about that, and 2. Enjolras is really sick of being dishonest. He’s always prided himself on his honesty and loyalty, but clearly his dumb hormones and stupid brain have decided that that isn’t applicable anymore.

 

3.50.

 

He manages to move his legs, forcing himself to stand up. In the mirror, he looks all wrong. Eponine used to always say that once a month she’d have a “journée de mocheté”, a day where she just looks like shit all day for no discernable reason. That’s what Enjolras is having. Maybe he’s just nervous. Projecting. Either way, he can’t get his hair to sit right. He needs a fucking haircut. Courfeyrac is always saying that.

 

3.55. Enjolras leaves his room with his stomach in knots. He should have arranged to meet Grantaire earlier, because he’s really letting himself stew. He can’t even fathom this going well anymore.

 

The walk to the café feels like the green mile. It’s the longest walk of his life. It’s about 4.20 by the time he arrives. He stands outside.

 

Grantaire is in there, he can see him. He’s wearing a grey button-up shirt and a beanie, which is pretty much Enjolras’s wet dream in terms of Grantaire outfits. He’s got his back turned to the window.

 

Enjolras can feel his heart beat in his throat and behind his eyes. He can’t remember ever being this nervous. It’s dumb, he knows it’s dumb. It’s just a boy.

 

But it’s a really, really cute boy. And Enjolras can’t do this.

 

He can’t open the door. He knows a little bell will chime and Grantaire will turn around and see him and recognise him, and Enjolras won’t be able to explain himself. He won’t even be able to speak.

 

So he doesn’t go in.

  
  


It’s about 4.30. Grantaire looks like he’s starting to get impatient. He’s drumming his fingers on the table. Enjolras pulls out his phone and texts him.

 

_E: I’m so sorry R, something came up, and I don’t think I’ll be able to make it today. I’m really sorry. Please don’t hate me._

 

He watches Grantaire checking his phone, then walks away, ducking into a doorway to catch his breath.

 

*

 

He spends the rest of the day in his room. Grantaire texted back “ _oh. no problem._ ” shortly after he left the café, but he can tell that he was pissed off. Well, maybe not pissed off, but disappointed. Hurt. Enjolras hates himself.

 

So he throws himself a literal pity party, with a shit ton of oreos and really bad reality TV on Netflix.

 

“ _Undercover Boss_ is such capitalist propaganda.” he tells his empty dorm room, clicking on ‘next episode’. His dorm room doesn’t care. Grantaire would care. He really wants to talk to Grantaire about this, because the CEO of Hooters is trying to make his business look decent and family-friendly in the public eye, and Enjolras feels sick.

 

Well, the exploitation of women probably isn’t the only reason he feels sick. But it is pretty sickening.

  


He doesn’t leave his dorm room all weekend. Only once on Sunday to get more oreos and almond milk, because he didn’t buy a mini milkshake maker for nothing. He doesn’t show up to class on Monday. It’s the first time he’s missed a History class.

  
He feels like such an ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (shoutout to RUTH for all the inspiration you're a STAR)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops the rating went up

Courfeyrac busts into his room on Wednesday. Enjolras is in the middle of shoveling a spoonful of Cheerios in his mouth, and he’s sitting at his desk in his underwear. Courfeyrac takes one look at him and bursts out laughing, shaking his head.

 

“It’s official. You’re coming out tonight.”

 

Enjolras frowns. “It’s the middle of the week.”

 

“It’s not, it’s a strike day tomorrow.” Courf grins. Paris and fucking strike days.

 

Enjolras grabs the yellow t-shirt at the foot of his bed, pulling it over his head. “I don’t feel like going out, man.”

 

“There’s no way I’m leaving you here to wallow in your own self-pity. You need to get laid.” he sits down on Enjolras’s bed, looking around the room. “You really need to get laid.”

 

Enjolras sighs. “What did you have in mind?”

 

“Jehan knows this gay bar. We’re going there later.”

 

“A _gay bar_?” Enjolras raises an eyebrow.

 

“It’ll be fun!”

 

“Gay bars are never fun, oh my God.”

 

“Christ, it was _one time_ , Enjolras.”

 

“He tried to dry hump me!”

 

Courfeyrac rolls his eyes. “Just come with us, Enj. You’ll have a good time. It’ll be better than whatever...this is.” He shoots a glance at Enjolras’s computer.

 

Enjolras may or may not have been playing teenage dress up games for slightly too long. He slams his computer shut and runs a hand through his hair.

 

“Yeah okay, whatever. Just let me shower.”

 

Courfeyrac grins. “I’d be pretty grossed out if you didn’t.”

 

*

 

The bar is...extremely loud.

 

They’re blasting Nicki Minaj so loudly that it makes Enjolras’s ears hurt. Normally this would be his _jam_ , but right now it’s making him feel nauseated. He needs a drink.

 

He tries to convey that feeling to Courfeyrac, but he can’t hear him. Enjolras just stuffs a twenty in his hand and makes drinking gestures. Courfeyrac doesn’t need to be told twice. Well, shown twice.

 

Enjolras and Jehan try to find a quiet corner to hang out in (‘quiet’ not being the operative word, because that would be impossible here). Jehan keeps tugging on Enjolras’s sleeve and pointing at hot guys, so obviously Courfeyrac told everyone Enjolras needs to get laid. Whatever, they’re wrong, he’s fine.

 

Some of the guys here are pretty hot though.

 

Sadly, not hot enough to distract him from Grantaire for too long.

 

They eventually find some free seats off the side of the dancefloor, and Courfeyrac joins them with drinks. He hands Enjolras something ridiculously pink, with a tiny little orange umbrella sticking out. Enjolras gives him an exasperated look, but downs it pretty fast. He perhaps isn’t as emotionally stable as he hoped to convey.

  


They sit there for at least an hour, and Courfeyrac and Jehan are pressed into each other on one side of the table, whispering (well, shouting) in each other’s ears. Every now and then Jehan will grin or bite Courfeyrac’s neck. Enjolras totally hates this.

 

So he gets pretty drunk. To be fair, nothing is worse than third-wheeling when you’re sober. He’s also pretty pissed that he’s surrounded by gay men and literally none of them have tried to hit on him yet. Maybe he’s not sending out the right vibe. Maybe he should have worn something else.

 

He ruffles up his hair and scans the club, trying to send out some kinda vibe. He’s not really sure what his vibe is, though. Probably “please fuck me, I’m sort of on the rebound” or “emotionally unavailable wreck”. Guys are into that, right?

 

He stands up to make his way to the bar. Courfeyrac and Jehan don’t really notice, so he’s not gonna buy them any more drinks.

 

He has to push through a ridiculous amount of sweaty bodies to reach it, but he eventually gets there, resting his elbows on the counter to catch his breath. One of his elbows touches something sticky. He doesn’t have enough energy to care.

 

Unfortunately, the bartender is extremely busy up the other side of the bar, so Enjolras sighs to himself and twists around, leaning back to see if there’s anyone he’d be into.

 

Most of the time, when Enjolras gets dragged to a gay bar, it’s full of aggressive bears who make Enjolras feel like he’s cornered. This one is pretty mellow. Enjolras is almost having a good time. Of course, he keeps seeing people that remind him of Grantaire. Like that one guy to the right of the dancefloor, with his ridiculous mop of black hair and his tattoos, and his...fuck.

 

That _is_ Grantaire.

 

Enjolras blinks, but yep. He’s 99% sure that’s Grantaire. And he looks fucking hot. Grantaire always looks hot, admittedly, but something about seeing him here, Enjolras can’t look away. He’s wearing a black t-shirt and a green hoodie with the sleeves rolled up. And he’s got stubble. Enjolras fucking loves it when Grantaire has stubble. God.

 

Grantaire is talking to someone. Some short blond guy. Enjolras is jealous, suddenly. Especially when Grantaire throws his head back and laughs at something, because he looks so relaxed and pretty.

 

Enjolras is just drunk enough that he starts moving without quite meaning to. He pushes back through all the people on the dancefloor. He doesn’t even know what his plan is, he just wants to get closer to Grantaire.

By the time he gets to the other side of the room, the blond guy is gone. Grantaire is leaning against the wall, smiling to himself, holding a half empty cup. He looks incredible. He also looks fucked up. Enjolras isn’t sure what’s in the cup, but he’s guessing it was strong.

 

He leans against the wall next to Grantaire. “Hey,” he shouts. Loudly. It’s barely audible.

 

Grantaire raises his head and grins. “Hi.”

 

If Enjolras weren’t drunk, he would be freaking out right now. Well, he is sort of freaking out, but it’s cool. It’s just sort of a lot to have all of Grantaire’s attention. Well. His drunk attention.

 

“Are you okay??” he shouts.

 

Grantaire nods enthusiastically, scratching his chest. “You’re really pretty,” he shouts back. His words are slightly slurred. Enjolras loves it.

 

“And you’re really fucking hot,” He laughs, leaning in closer to Grantaire. Grantaire does the same.

 

This is weird, but it’s sort of awesome. Their arms are almost touching, and it feels kind of electric. Grantaire shouts something that Enjolras doesn’t hear, so he shakes his head. “What??”

 

Grantaire laughs and puts his arm around Enjolras’s shoulders so he can pull him closer. Enjolras can feel his hair brushing off his face as he talks. “What’s your name?” Grantaire asks again, his breath hot in Enjolras’s ear.

 

Enjolras laughs nervously. Drunkenly. “Who cares?” he yells.

 

He swears he hears Grantaire giggle. He brings his free hand up to Enjolras’s face, smoothing his thumb over his cheekbone ever so gently. He still hasn’t moved his arm from around Enjolras’s shoulders. Enjolras just grins.

 

“Do you wanna come back to my place, mystery man?” Grantaire asks. He smells really good.

 

Enjolras looks over at Courfeyrac and Jehan. They still haven’t really moved, besides the fact that Jehan appears to have migrated to Courfeyrac’s lap. Enjolras looks back at Grantaire. Grantaire and his blue fucking eyes. He’s looking straight at Enjolras, like he’s the only thing worth paying attention to.

 

So Enjolras nods, and Grantaire smiles. He pulls his arm away from Enjolras’s shoulders, throwing his cup aside and lacing his fingers with Enjolras’s instead. He guides Enjolras back across the dancefloor and towards the exit. Enjolras knows his palms are sweaty. His whole dang body is damp with sweat from being in here. With Grantaire. Wow.

 

Enjolras grins at the bouncers on the way out. It’s cool out, because Paris is always freaking cold at this hour, but the night air is welcome on his skin. He’s burning up.

 

Grantaire leads him down the street, taking a few turns. He doesn’t live very far, but Enjolras still isn’t sure he’d know how to make his way back. He’s kind of too busy staring at their hands. He’s surprised he hasn’t tripped on the cobblestones yet.

 

When they get to Rue Suger, Grantaire lets go of his hand and starts fumbling in his pockets for his keys. He turns back to grin at Enjolras as he opens the door. Enjolras follows him up two flights of stairs. His ears are still ringing from the music.

 

Grantaire’s apartment is number 15. Enjolras notices because someone’s painted the numbers on the door in beautiful gold cursive.

 

Perhaps he’s too distracted by the door for a second, because he doesn’t notice when it opens, and suddenly he’s being pulled inside by the front of his t-shirt, and Grantaire is kissing him.

 

Grantaire is _kissing him_. And his mouth is warm and dry and it makes something twist inside Enjolras’s stomach. He slips his hands underneath Grantaire’s hoodie and Grantaire pulls him closer, one hand balled in his t-shirt and the other carding through his hair.

 

When Enjolras lets his mouth fall open, Grantaire nudges him back until he’s pinned against the door. He kisses like he’s desperate for it. It’s making Enjolras dizzy.

 

Grantaire eventually pulls away for air, resting his forehead against Enjolras’s and reaching down between them to undo Enjolras’s belt and oh, hey. Enjolras is hard. Really hard. And so is Grantaire.

 

Enjolras pulls off his own t-shirt while Grantaire fumbles with his belt, then slides his hands up under Grantaire’s shirt to coax it off, too. Grantaire grins at him briefly and complies, discarding his hoodie and lifting his arms so Enjolras can pull his shirt off.

 

Fuck, he’s hot. He’s really hot. Hotter than Enjolras imagined. Enjolras drags his fingernails down his torso lightly, watching faint red marks appear on his skin, listening to Grantaire’s breath hitch.

 

“Bed?” Grantaire suggests, breathless. Enjolras laughs and nods, kissing Grantaire quickly before allowing himself to be led to his bedroom.

 

Grantaire’s room isn’t tidy. There are art supplies strewn everywhere, canvases lining the walls. Enjolras kind of loves it. He sits down on the bed and pulls Grantaire over by the belt hoops, looking up at him.

 

“I want you to fuck me.” He tells him, matter-of-factly. He’s glad he’s drunk. Grantaire lets out this hoarse groan and nods, leaning down to kiss Enjolras.

 

Enjolras cups the back of his neck and scoots up on the bed until he’s lying down with Grantaire leaning over him. Enjolras manages to pull the condom out of his pocket before shucking off his jeans (what? he came prepared) and he pushes it into Grantaire’s hand without breaking the kiss. Grantaire lets out a contented moan against Enjolras’s mouth.

 

Enjolras works his hand down between them to palm at Grantaire’s dick through his jeans. “You should be more naked,” he says stupidly, his voice muffled. Grantaire huffs out a laugh but he obviously agrees, since he sits up on his knees to undo his pants.

 

This is the hottest thing Enjolras has ever seen. He can’t believe he’s here, in Grantaire’s room, with Grantaire kneeling over him. Hard and half-naked.

 

Well, hard and fully naked now. Enjolras can’t resist sitting up to join their mouths again, closing his fingers loosely around Grantaire’s cock and biting at his bottom lip. Grantaire’s moans are making his head spin, and they’re going straight to Enjolras’s dick.

 

Grantaire puts his hand on Enjolras’s shoulder, pushing him back down into the bed gently before reaching over him to fumble for something in the clutter on his nightstand. Enjolras can hear him uncapping a bottle, and Grantaire moves down between Enjolras’s knees, pressing his lips to Enjolras’s hip. Enjolras lets out an involuntary moan when he feels Grantaire’s lube-slick fingers circle around his hole and push into him. He balls his fists in the sheets and bites his bottom lip while Grantaire scissors him open, biting at the skin on his hip.

 

“Fuck, yeah,” Enjolras sighs, and it comes out breathless and hoarse. “I want your cock,”  
  


He knows he’s going to be embarrassed about that in the morning.

 

Grantaire just agrees though, and he kisses up Enjolras’s stomach before pulling his fingers out and opening the condom with his teeth. He rolls it on and slides his hands up Enjolras’s thighs, hiking one of his legs up before lining up.

 

“Ready?” he asks in a low voice. His pupils are shot so wide, his eyes almost look black. Enjolras nods frantically.

 

Grantaire pushes in, and Enjolras lets out an embarrassingly loud moan, reaching up to claw at his back. Grantaire leans down to kiss him as he picks up the pace, open-mouthed and dirty. Even though they’re both foggy with alcohol, Grantaire fucks hard. Enjolras can hear the headboard slam against the wall. He wraps one of his legs around Grantaire’s waist.

 

When Grantaire wraps his hand around Enjolras’s cock, Enjolras starts babbling. Grantaire is talking too, a litany of words lost against Enjolras’s mouth. Enjolras tries to hear him, wants to have his voice in his head forever, but all he can hear is “you’re so fucking hot” or “I’ve wanted you for so long”, and then he can’t focus anymore because it’s all too much, and he comes so hard he sees static. Grantaire fucks into him a few times before he comes, too, digging his fingers into Enjolras’s skin. That’s definitely going to bruise.

 

They lie there for a second, breathless. Enjolras’s body is still humming, (from the alcohol or the orgasm) and he strokes a hand up Grantaire’s back.

 

“Fuck.” he says after a beat. And then they’re both laughing, and Grantaire kisses him, and Enjolras is really fucking happy.

 

“That was awesome.” Grantaire grins, throwing the condom in the general direction of the trash can and cuddling up next to Enjolras, placing open-mouthed kisses down his neck and collarbone.

 

Enjolras just smiles and nudges Grantaire’s leg with his knee. “Yeah.”

 

He was planning on leaving, he really was. But somehow he ends up falling asleep there, with Grantaire pressed against him, sticky with sweat and come.

 

When he wakes up in the middle of the night, Grantaire’s pulled a blanket over them. So he just nuzzles his face into Grantaire’s shoulder and falls back asleep.

  
He’ll leave in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> final exam time, so there may be a delay with the next chapter! def up before the 20th of June, though. No worries.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops

When Enjolras wakes up, he’s a little disoriented.

 

There’s weak sunlight filtering through the curtains, which means the sun has only just come up. For a second he thinks he’s in his own room, but there’s art everywhere. And it’s a lot bigger than his room. And there’s someone in bed with him.

 

Grantaire is still there. He’s pressed into Enjolras’s side with one tattooed arm thrown over his chest and his mouth hanging open. Enjolras is pretty sure he’s drooling, but he still thinks he’s hot.

 

Suddenly, he remembers everything very clearly. He had sex with Grantaire. Really really fucking awesome sex!! And Grantaire didn’t leave!

 

Realistically, Enjolras should have been the one to leave, since it’s Grantaire’s place. But Grantaire didn’t even leave the bed. That’s a good thing right? That’s like. Encouraging.

 

Though there is a chance he just overslept and he’ll wake up and be all “oh shit, you’re still here?”.

 

Man, that would be awful.

 

Actually, that’s a distinct possibility.

 

Grantaire shifts beside him, muttering something in his sleep and scratching his arm.

 

Enjolras wants to kiss him. Really badly. But he feels like that’s overstepping his boundaries. Granted, a couple of hours ago Grantaire was literally balls deep inside him, but he probably saw that as a one-time thing. If Grantaire’s OkCupid profile taught him anything, it’s that he isn’t looking for a serious relationship.

 

So Enjolras tries to lift Grantaire’s arm off as gently as he can and worm out from underneath him, holding his breath when Grantaire grunts in his sleep.

 

He’s cold once he’s out from underneath the covers. Cold and completely naked. He pads around the room, trying to gather as many articles of clothing as he can find. He can’t find one of his socks, but he doesn’t care. He brings all his clothes out into the hallway to get dressed out there, so he doesn’t wake Grantaire.

 

Grantaire’s apartment is kind of amazing. It isn’t huge or modern, but his kitchen has these huge sliding doors that lead to a balcony. Enjolras pulls on his boxers and stares at the view for a second.

 

He’s always loved Paris, but right now, he feels infatuated. He can see right across the Sorbonne, the University’s rounded towers lit up by the morning sun. It kind of takes his breath away.

 

Grantaire’s microwave clock tells him that’s it’s 5.15am, and Paris is almost still. Well, as still as it could ever be. Enjolras puts the rest of his clothes down on the counter. He slides open the doors as quietly as he can and steps out onto the balcony in his bare feet, resting his elbows on the copper railing and taking a deep breath. He knows he should leave before Grantaire wakes up, but hey. If he’s never going to talk to him again, he’d might as well make the most of his apartment, right?

 

Enjolras is just about to turn around and leave when he’s startled by a voice behind him.

 

“Wow.”

 

Grantaire is leaning in the doorway, wearing only tattered flannel pyjama bottoms, with unlit cigarette dangling from his lips.

 

Enjolras blushes one of his ugly embarrassing blushes that turn his chest red. “I’m sorry, I was just about to leave, I-”

 

“You’re a fucking vision, you know that?” Grantaire smiles, shaking his head in disbelief. He pulls a lighter out of his pocket and lights his cigarette, stepping out onto the balcony. “I knew I was lucky to get you into bed, but to wake up to this? A freaking...Greek God standing on my balcony?”

 

Enjolras opens his mouth to protest, but Grantaire just grins and smooths a thumb over Enjolras’s cheekbone. “You have no idea how pretty you are, do you? You _literally glow golden in the sun_ , Apollo.” He takes another drag and leans one arm on the railing. “I’m glad you didn’t leave yet.”

 

Enjolras feels light headed, and he absently brings a hand up to his face to feel where Grantaire just touched him. “Wait...what did you just call me?”

 

Grantaire stiffens for a second, looking at Enjolras out of the corner of his eye. He brings a hand up to trail a finger down Enjolras’s abdomen. “Apollo.” He says quietly. “Mighty Apollo, God of light. Beautiful Kouros,” he’s smiling a little, but he looks nervous.

  
  


Enjolras’s chest feels funny. Fucking.. Apollo? That’s what Grantaire calls him on OkCupid, or when they text. Does that mean Grantaire knows who he is? Does that mean Grantaire is just fucking toying with him? Enjolras feels sick.

 

He wants to say something intelligent, like “why did you call me that?” or “you must say that to everyone,” but the only words that come out of his mouth are “I need to go.”

 

As soon as he says them he sees Grantaire’s face fall. He pushes past him and grabs his clothes, pulling on his t-shirt and jeans on his way to the door. He keeps muttering “I have to go” and Grantaire just watches him, opening and closing his mouth like he doesn’t know what to say.

 

He eventually manages “Please don’t go, I-”

 

“Just. Don’t say anything.” Enjolras interrupts. “Thanks for the sex and everything. But I have to go.”

  
He leaves without looking back.

 

*

 

Enjolras puts his shoes on at the steps outside Grantaire’s building. At least he knows where he is. It would probably take him 30 minutes to walk home.

 

He does it anyway. He kind of wants those 30 minutes to clear his head. Some protesters have started gathering around Paris, getting their banners together, organising the march. He does his best to smile at them. Enjolras knows he should be among them, but he didn’t prepare. He didn’t even know about the strike until yesterday. This whole Grantaire thing is really fucking with his head.

 

He can’t shake the empty feeling in his stomach. If Grantaire knew all along, was he just playing with him? Did he just keep up the charade to make fun of him? Or maybe he was using Enjolras as an easy lay. As much as Enjolras wanted to screw Grantaire, that thought makes him feel dirty and used. He feels like crying.

 

He feels so stupid. That whole time, Grantaire knew. He probably knows about the History class thing as well. Maybe he was texting Enjolras in class as a joke, laughing about it with his friends.

 

Enjolras needs to stop thinking about this. He already feels like an idiot. The more he thinks about it, the dumber he feels. Plus his ass hurts, and he can feel the bruises on his hips and his thighs from where Grantaire’s fingers dug into his skin. Which is just a constant reminder of how dumb he is. Grantaire knew the whole fucking time.

  
  
  
When Enjolras gets home, he goes straight to bed. It isn’t even 6am yet. He curls up in on himself until the sick feeling goes away and he falls asleep in his clothes.


	9. Chapter 9

Enjolras drops out of History.

He knows it’s petty, but he can’t handle showing up to that class anymore. On the bright side, it gives him more time to study for his other subjects.

 

He spends the rest of the week studying with Bahorel and ignoring his phone. He got a bunch of texts from Grantaire after he left, but he didn’t read any. He figures that if he ignores his problems long enough, they’ll go away. That’s how it works, right? Ugh.

 

Bahorel is sort of amazing at law, but in a begrudging way. He has a love/hate relationship with law school. Every time Enjolras asks him a question he lets out this long, drawn-out sigh before answering. He always knows the answer, though.

  
  


That Friday night, he hangs out with Courfeyrac by the Seine. They pass a cigarette back and forth, and Courfeyrac has his feet in the water, splashing them around. Enjolras sits cross-legged at the edge.

 

“So anyway, _he_ left the party early, and I had to walk home on my own,” Courfeyrac is saying, moving his hands animatedly. “And he’s still mad at me.”

 

“Wait, why is he so mad?”

 

“I tweaked his nipples once. One time! It was a joke!”

 

“Fucking Marius.” Enjolras snorts.

 

“Fucking Marius!”

 

Courfeyrac laughs, and ruffles Enjolras’s hair. He likes it when it’s just the two of them.  “How’s Jehan?” Enjolras asks, flicking ash into the river. He passes the cigarette back to Courfeyrac without taking a drag.

 

Courf gives him a tired smile. “He’s good, he’s. Yeah.” He rubs his eye with the heel of his hand. “I don’t know if that’s a _thing_ , y’know? He’s no Combeferre.”

 

Enjolras nods, studying Courfeyrac. Courfeyrac was crazy in love with Combeferre when they were kids, but it just...never happened. Combeferre left for med school in Nantes, and Courf never got to tell him how he felt. He chose to stay in Paris, with Enjolras. For Enjolras. He tries to act like it isn’t a big deal.

 

“How ‘bout you?” Courfeyrac says after a beat.

 

“Huh?”

 

“Have you spoken to Grantaire?”

 

“Oh.” Enjolras stares down at the black Seine water. “No. Not really.”

 

Courfeyrac just raises an eyebrow at him.

 

“He’s been sending me texts, but I didn’t read any of them.” He sighs.

 

“He was asking me about you.” Courfeyrac tells him.

 

Enjolras sits up suddenly. “What?”

 

“Yeah.” Courf smiles a little. “He was all ‘you’re friends with Enjolras, right?’ and I was like ‘yeah...’”

 

“Oh God,” Enjolras covers his face with his hands. “This whole situation is so embarrassing.”

 

“I didn’t tell him anything. Just that I knew you and shit.” Courfeyrac finishes off the cigarette and puts it out on the cobblestones beside him. “He wanted me to tell you that he’s sorry and he wants to talk to you or something.”

 

“No way, I need to forget this whole thing.” Enjolras just groans into his palms. “You were right, there was no way it could have worked out.”

 

Courfeyrac doesn’t say anything for a second. Just swishes his feet and clears his throat.

 

“You know, I only said that because I knew it would make you fight for it.” He says. His voice is soft. “You should talk to him, Enj. You’re both idiots who clearly like each other.”

 

“We’re both full of shit, is what we are.” Enjolras sighs again, resting his head on Courfeyrac’s shoulder.

 

“Then you’re perfect for each other.” Courfeyrac smiles.

  
Enjolras doesn’t say anything. He just closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.


	10. Chapter 10

Courfeyrac is right, as usual. Enjolras quickly realises that ignoring his problems does _not_ work as well as he had anticipated. Especially when his problems find out where his dorm room is.

He leaves a late study session with Bahorel on Tuesday in a shitty mood. His eyes hurt from staring at his books and he hasn’t stretched his legs in about three hours. He would have done more, but Bahorel insisted that sleep was more important than the law.

“Everything is more important than the law. Fuck the law.” He had muttered groggily, his head resting on the table. Enjolras agrees to call it a night.

He leaves the library at about 1.00am, wrapping his scarf tight around his neck and stuffing his hands in his pockets to make his way back to his room. All he wants is to curl up in bed with 500 blankets and his iPod.

He’s fiddling with his keychain as he walks up the hallway to his dorm room, so he doesn’t notice Grantaire at first. He’s hard to miss though. He’s sitting on the floor outside Enjolras’s door, with his eyes closed and his head resting against the wall.

He looks disheveled. He’s wearing an Aran jumper and scuffed jeans, and he looks like he hasn’t shaved in about a week. (No, it is _not_ an appropriate time to admire how hot he is. Fuck.)

It would be impossible for Enjolras to open the door to his room without waking him up, so he ends up standing in the hallway for a good 5 minutes, panicking about what to do.

He could wake Grantaire up and try to explain himself. Or he could spend the night in Courfeyrac’s room, which seems like a much better option. But now that Grantaire knows where he lives, he could show up at any time. Maybe Enjolras could permanently move in with Courfeyrac. Yeah, there’s only one single bed, but Courf has always liked cuddling. Enjolras is impartial, but if it means he never has to bear the embarrassment of talking to Grantaire, then he’ll gladly partake.

Something about the way Grantaire looks won’t let Enjolras leave, though. He’s never seen him look so... _small_. All he wants to do is wrap him up and take care of him. He reaches down tentatively and shakes Grantaire’s shoulder.

“Grantaire,” he whispers. “wake up.”

Grantaire wakes with a jump, looking around for a second. His eyes are tired, but they light up when he sees Enjolras standing over him, brow furrowed.

“Enjolras.” he smiles. “I was waiting for you.”

“What are you doing here?” Enjolras hisses. “It’s one o’clock in the morning.”

Grantaire scrambles to his feet and checks his watch. “I didn’t think you’d be out so late. I wanted to talk to you.”

Enjolras digs around in his pocket for his keys, fumbling with the latch on his door to hide his embarrassment. It probably isn’t working. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I’m an idiot. But if you’ve come here to humiliate me, then could we please reschedule? Because I’m really fucking tired.”

Grantaire frowns. “What? No. _What_?” He takes a step closer, and Enjolras can feel him in his personal space. He smells like sweat and cigarettes and cheap aftershave and all Enjolras wants to do is bury his face in his chest and never come up for air but, yeah. Getting the key in the door. “I came here because we had ridiculously awesome sex and you ran away and since then you’ve been avoiding me like the plague and…”

Grantaire sighs. “Look,” he says, placing his hand over Enjolras’s to stop him fumbling with the lock. Enjolras flinches at the touch. “I know we probably both have a lot of explaining to do, but I miss you. And I really, really like you. Can we just start from there?”

Enjolras bites his lip and clenches a fist around his key. “Please don’t fuck with me, R.” he says quietly.

Grantaire reaches a hand up to Enjolras’s cheek, making him look at him. Grantaire looks confused and desperate and horrified all at once, and he lifts his other hand so that he’s cupping Enjolras’s face. And then he kisses him.

Their first kiss had been desperate and heated but this was slow and gentle and unlike anything Enjolras had ever experienced in his life. He clings to Grantaire’s sleeves so hard his knuckles turn white. He feels like it’s the only thing keeping him from floating away.

When Grantaire pulls away for air he’s flushed and beautiful. “You like me?” Enjolras asks, his voice coming out small and more breathless than he expected.

Grantaire just laughs and kisses him again. “I really, really,” he says between kisses “really do.”

Enjolras doesn’t even notice when he drops his keys on the floor.

**  
**  


*

**  
**  


“I guess at first I kinda hoped it was you. I mean, how many people in Paris are called ‘Enjolras’? And then your phone went off in class, you idiot.” Grantaire laughs, stroking a hand through Enjolras’s hair. They’re both cramped into Enjolras’s tiny bed, covered in sweat and come and hickeys. Enjolras feels amazing. “Plus, I’ve kind of had a crush on you since forever.” Grantaire admits in a quiet voice.

“What? You never even look at me!” Enjolras protests, cracking an eye open.

Grantaire shakes his head. “Are you serious? I came to _every single_ meeting you held last year, and you never looked at me once! I was convinced you hated me. That’s why I tried to give you some space in History class.”

Enjolras groans and buries his face in Grantaire’s chest. “I’m so sorry,” he says, his voice muffled. “I probably didn’t even notice you. I’m such a dumbass.” He can feel Grantaire chuckle quietly beneath him.

“Well, I’m glad you got your head out of your ass.” He says, pressing a kiss to the top of Enjolras’s head.

“Shut up. You too.”

  
Grantaire pulls Enjolras closer to him. “Yeah. Me too.” **  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops!!!


End file.
